Unorthodox

I was this close to backing out of sprints with the running group. Motivation is melting these days, but in the end I joined them and had a great run. I overdressed out of fear of feeling chilled, but when pratice was over it was cold enough for the jacket that had been laughably extraneous an hour earlier. It wasn't the easiest workout - 2(600m x 4) - but it was mercifully short, and in no time we were stretching to finish off the workout, and then I was pedalling home in the dark, no bike lights and tons of traffic, gritting my teeth and hoping for the best.

Along the way, I rode by the house where in summer guys linger on the concrete step and smoke sheesha. The air is perfumed with apple tobacco, sweet and unusual to me, fooling me into believing I am elsewhere for a quick second.

This summer in Hamilton I sampled an unorthodox ice cream flavour created by a girl with an ice cream machine and a dream: white chocolate, vanilla and apple. My tongue continually stumbled upon tiny apple pieces buried within the creamy white chocolate. A heavenly combination.